Warrior Witch: Book Two, page 20
“You can’t keep me here!” Her eyes burned with unshed tears. A lump knotted in her throat. “No one can keep me anywhere!”
“If that were true, you’d already be gone!”
She jerked on his fingers, trying to widen his grip. He growled at her, his hands unyielding. She stumbled, their legs tangled, and they spilled onto the carpet. Bran turned them to catch the brunt of the fall on his shoulder. The jostling made her injuries scream at her all the same. His arms held firm through her cries, encircling her, promising to comfort her and imprison her at the same time. She tried to crawl free, but he rolled over her, chest to chest.
“I have to save him!” she shouted into his face, lungs heaving.
“It doesn’t have to be you, you stubborn woman! It doesn’t always have to be you!” He pinned her good arm, gently pressing her body into the floor with his weight.
How could he stop her? Didn’t he understand? This was Jack. Her Jack. Her Amigtas! She bucked her hips, trying to throw him off. He didn’t budge. His breaths came in a rush. Then slowly, so slowly, the anger drained from his face as if through a sieve. Sorrow replaced it.
“Marnie . . .” His voice softened. “Let me help you. Let me take care of you.” He dropped his forehead to hers. His breath fanned her cheek, dampening some of the fire in her. Her hands had been clenched so tight, her nails bit into her palms. She relaxed them.
“Jack,” she whimpered. Tears flowed from her eyes, dripping into her ears. “He wouldn’t abandon me. He wouldn’t stop for rest if it was me gone, taken by watchmen.”
It was her worst nightmares come to life.
“Kye will help him. Alec will help him. I’ll help him. You will realize you’ve done enough, been brave enough, fought enough, and will rest.” Bran’s gaze narrowed on the badge of her apprenticeship. Baring his teeth, he pried off the gilded lion, tearing the chiffon, and he threw it across the room. It clattered somewhere over her head. “I’ll never ever ask you to wear that again. Marnie, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t I learn the first time? Trouble follows us, and I should know better. I should keep you in a cupboard far, far away from all this mess. Can you ever forgive me?”
The scent of the magic that favored Bran’s skin intensified, spreading over Marnie, encasing her in an autumn night with crisp, rainy air. It filled her nose, made her lightheaded. “The magic on your skin . . .” she moaned. “It’s so raw. There’s so much of it right now.”
He pulled away, shifting his weight.
“No, don’t move.” Marnie clung to him. She brushed her cheek along his, the magic cool and comforting, ran her fingers through his hair to stir up more of it. Her stomach plunged as his body relaxed against hers, and she welcomed his weight. The pain in the crook of her shoulder, her arm, her cheek, the bruising and the swelling receded. Her burns cooled.
“What’s happening to you?” His eyes went round.
“The magic that favors you is being kind to me.”
“You talk like magic has feelings.” He smiled at her fondly, like he already knew what she was going to say next.
“Magic has feelings.” She kissed him, but the meeting of their lips lacked its usual enthusiasm.
“You’re hurt,” he cautioned hoarsely, but the evidence of his desire rested hard and hot against her thigh. A familiar throbbing stirred in her core, sending tremors up her abdomen.
“I’m hurt. And exhausted. And scared. And I have a problem, and I need you,” she said, thrusting her body against his, but this time she was not trying to buck him off. She wanted more of his weight. All of his weight. “Take care of me, Bran. Slowly. Gently.”
Slowly, he helped her out of her underwear and freed himself from his trousers. Gently, he entered her. Marnie gasped at the invasion, rocking her hips to take him deeper, dress hooked up around her waist.
He kissed her, enthusiasm restored. “I’m always going to take care of you, Marnie,” he said against her lips.
“I just might let you,” she breathed.
Done with gentle and slow, she urged him faster and harder.
Chapter 15 (Jack)
Jack paced the dark, dank cell, searching the cold stone around him for something to cast a spell with. Ingredients to use or sacrifice. He kicked off his boots, feeling blind with them on. They had taken his pouch of insects and growths. He had a wooden bucket to piss in, an oil lamp that lacked oil, and a holey blanket for the ground. He didn’t know where he was but felt certain it wasn’t the constabulary.
Some hidden place.
The sort of place witches were destined to never leave alive. His stomach dropped.
His cold magics pressed firmly against his skin. The panic from Marnie had ebbed away a while ago, but not knowing what had caused it in the first place left him feeling lost and leaden inside. Not knowing what would happen to him next heightened his awareness, had him jumping at every noise, every drip of moisture from the corners, every scratch and scamper from the unknown critters of the dark.
He felt Kye’s familiar magics swooping in around him, prickling his skin, chasing away his jumpiness seconds before the wall at his back shimmered and turned to a glowing, floating liquid—the same spell she’d cast to enter the cottage the first night they had met. Kye leapt through it, coming out dry and disheveled, several white tresses breaking free of her braid, dirt and sweat on her face like she’d been racing all over the island. He was thrilled to see her—
Then he saw her eyes and his stomach filled with rocks. Her gaze was dark, too dark to find the pupils. No longer hazel. Her skin was pale and luminous. She smelled like molasses.
“What have you done?” His throat thickened around his words.
“What I had to. Come on.” She turned toward the wall of water. It wasn’t much bigger than her. Jack would have to duck and squeeze through.
He grabbed her arm. “Allison—”
“She’s fine,” she said quickly, jerking him forward. “Rabbit healed her long ago. She’s happy. And she will get to grow now like she wants to. Like every young girl deserves.”
“Marnie . . . ?”
“She’s . . . alive. The bishop is possessed. A demon hurt Marnie, weakened her, but she’ll be all right. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be all right, too, Jack.”
“No.” His nostrils flared. “I don’t trust it. It can’t have you!”
“We need the saint to help us.”
“Saint?” The word tasted vile in his mouth. “How certain are you that it is a saint?”
Her eyes darkened further. The voice that passed through her lips sounded nothing like Kye. Deeper, older, the lilting mountain accent gone. “You can call me saint or spirit or angel if you prefer. I’m not what you fear. I’m not a devourer, warrior witch. I absorb magic to use it. Not to consume it. Remus developed a taste for it, but I have not.”
“You’ve tasted blood. You’re doomed.” His hands tightened into fists that turned his knuckles white. “Don’t talk to me with her tongue. Out of her mouth. Do not!” He ground his teeth.
“You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust anyone. Least of all you.” The muscles of his arms coiled so fiercely his arms trembled. “I want her back.”
Kye’s face was placid, unfeeling. “I did not realize she belonged to anyone. We could share her, perhaps?”
He wanted to break something. “I want Kye back the way she was . . . I know you won’t be alone. You crave a host. Take me instead.”
Rabbit touched his chest with Kye’s hand, just above his heart, the skin so hot it startled him. Her pale skin and hair glittered in an otherworldly way. Beautiful. Angelic. He hated it. Instead of sunshine and flowered trees, she smelled like berries and molasses. Too sweet.
“Do you wonder why we call you warrior witch?” Rabbit asked.
Jack shrugged his impossibly heavy shoulders. “Because I willingly wrestled a bear demon.”
“No.” She pressed Kye’s sweltering palm flat above his heart. “This makes you the warrior witch. The fight in here. It’s as bloody a battle as ever I’ve seen, and I’m ancient enough I’ve seen many, many battles. Violent, destructive, your heart is. No spirit or demon could ever reside within you. Not for long. Certainly not comfortably.”
“What do you want?” he choked. “In exchange for Kye?”
“What you seek is distasteful to me. Demons make bargains that benefit them. I’m not one.”
“Call it a sacrifice, then! My magic is delicious. You want it. You can have it. I’ll give it to you willingly, as much as you want, just let Kye go.”
Her eyes darkened further, until the whites were gone, just two pools of twilight. “Not all magics are like yours. Overwhelming. Addictive. Offer it to no one, Warrior Witch. Be more careful with it. I sacrificed much to save the witchling and you. Do not tempt me now.”
“Then leave Kye! And leave your temptation behind!”
Rabbit did not respond. Kye’s eyes lightened. “Jack?” Her lilting accent was back.
He wrapped her up, holding her tight. A little too tight. She coughed, and his grip loosened. “What have you done, Kye?”
“Exactly what you told me to do. Saved Marnie, then you. And I’m not done just yet, so we have to go.” She yanked him into the water spell with a hand that was no longer brutally hot. The spell dripped like cold ink against his flesh. They moved through stone, through Loreley’s white walls, exiting into a back alley in Terra District.
Hand in hand, they walked the dark streets, stalking from building to building like burglars, avoiding patrolling watchmen and deep puddles. Several water gardens had flooded in the torrential rains, but finally the skies had quieted. Even the wind was still. A cat hissed at Kye, fled, and knocked over a trash bin. They sprinted into a narrow alley to wait out curious onlookers coming to inspect the noise.
“There’s something else I need from you,” Kye whispered, her back to a sandstone wall. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I hate all of this already,” Jack grumbled beside her. “What’s another thing?”
“We have to save the bishop.”
“No, we don’t. We really, really don’t.” He squinted ahead, listening for others, then he turned on her. “We have to save you. We have to undo what you’ve done. That’s our next move.”
“You think we should let the first and only bishop who has ever sympathized with witches be found with a demon in him? You think that’s wise? The man who freed me from my pairing for nothing in return? The first and only member of the Cloth I’ve ever been in the same room with and not felt terrified of—we should let him hang?”
“He tossed me in jail!”
“A demon tossed you in jail. Probably so he could eat you later.”
Jack shuddered. “Marnie tried to warn him about his so-called saint . . .”
“And we should let him hang for getting it wrong? He doubted her, and now he deserves death? Being saint-blessed is fairly common in Stejin. Before Allison, I had no idea they could change and never would have believed it either. Does Bishop Ren deserve to die now? Really, Jack? Leave him to the Cloth and that’s what will happen.”
He grunted. “No . . . I don’t know.”
“I know. So do as I say.” She tucked her hand back into his. Jack’s palm swallowed hers whole.
“Do as you say or as your magic says?” He frowned in the dark. “Or Rabbit,” he growled.
She squared with him, laying her hands on either side of his face and holding firm so he had to look into her dark, unnatural eyes. “I’m still me.”
“Not just you.”
She kissed him, and he resisted. Her smell was all wrong. Even the taste of her was off, too sweet.
But the feel of her.
Her skin and her soft, calming magics were all too familiar. His body recognized her first, hugging her. His hands wandered, explored, caressed. Remembered.
“Kye.” The naked yearning in that one word brought them both up short.
“I’m still me.”
“Still you,” he relented.
***
The iron gates of the manor were in his sights. The intricate brick work and ivory-paneled windows of the place he called home was a stone’s throw away. Jack felt relief wash over him. He pushed the gates open, grateful to hear the familiar groan of metal, to feel the pavers of the drive under his feet. There was a moment, very recently, when he wondered if he’d experience those things again.
“We need a mirror,” Kye said, in front of the doors. “A big one.”
Jack’s exhale was full of aggravation. “According to you, your magics, or—”
“Stop that, Jack. Just stop.”
They glared at each other.
He softened. “What else do we need?”
“The demon is in his blood. A stronger thing than Remus, but not as strong as our Rabbit. We have to separate it from the bishop in a very specific way, and then Rabbit will take care of it. You’ve done it before, apparently.”
Jack recalled the bear demon. “Marnie handled that. She cut something from them, then destroyed it to trap the demons.”
“Rabbit says not always.”
He grunted. “Rabbit can kiss my—”
“You used a mirror once.” Kye put a hand on his arm, squeezing warningly. “A mirror, a revealing spell, and your Amigtas bond. You didn’t even know you were doing it.”
“After Brother Doyle cast his rite on the bishop, the demon was afraid of our bond and the revealing spell,” Jack remembered. He guided her inside. The foyer was quiet, but at the sound of the door swinging open, Lady Becker and the butler rushed down the hall.
“Jack!” Annette sprinted to him, skirts hoisted above her ankles. She fussed over him, hugging him briefly, patting his shoulder. “Have you eaten? Were you starved? Mr. Marris, please fetch His Majesty. He’ll want to know Jack is back . . . Did they hurt you, dear?”
The butler took long strides to clear the foyer in a hurry.
“I’m fine,” Jack groused. “It’s only been a few hours, Lady Becker. No one has hurt me.”
“Well, it felt like days, dear,” Annette stressed. She reached out and attempted to smooth his hair. “You look pale and peaky. I don’t care what you say, I’m having something put together for you, and you had better indulge me.”
Jack’s bear-like frame had never been described as peaky before. It could have been humorous if it wasn’t also irritating. Lady Becker had a knack for saying things to him that cut both ways. Without waiting for his reply, she marched off in the direction of the kitchens.
Jack ushered Kye into the drawing room. He wanted to stand, to keep moving, keep his blood pumping through his anxious legs. She made him sit beside her on the sofa, close enough their knees touched. Kye looked him over, chewing her cheek. Whatever she wanted to say to him, he knew he wasn’t going to like it. He studied her face for clues.
Her gaze fell to the floor. “Marnie isn’t coming with us tonight. She’ll be all right, but she’s unwell at the moment. She’s lost a lot of magic and blood.”
Jack frowned at her. He had a good idea of how unwell from the way her magics had cried out to his. “We need the Amigtas bond.”
“You have one.” Her smile was sheepish. “Or could . . .” Her arm looped around his. She pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder, probably trying to subdue him, but his posture remained rigid. “. . . if you’d let your magics bond with mine.”
“I already have an Amigtas.”
“Where is it written you can only have one? Show me the Amigtas de Magus rule book, Jack.”
“I . . . I don’t know how to do it.”
“But you want to? Even though I’m the way I am right now?”
Jack met her dark eyes, focusing on the things that were unchanged about her. Her strength. The snowy hair, her flawless pale skin. The curve of her lips. Her slight frame. The way her small hand fit in his. The way her body slotted against him. Her wild spirit. The ink on her wrists and stomach that he wanted to lick—had licked. Thoroughly.
Kye leaned in close, wrapping her slender arms as far around his broad body as they’d go. He dwarfed her. “Your magics turned red again.”
“And what color are your magics, Kye?”
Her lips quirked. “I think you know.”
“My magics turn red when I’m thinking about you, it seems.”
“Keep thinking about me, then,” she said in his ear, nuzzling him.
He scooped her up into his lap, ready to consume her.
“Relax,” she admonished him, running her hands across his chest, over his heart, speeding its beat, then down his abdomen. His muscles jumped at her touch before returning to their taut state. “Stop fighting it.”
He wanted to. He really did. “You tried to say goodbye to me . . . You were going to leave. I can’t lose you, Kye. I can’t lose anyone else.”
“I don’t want to lose you either.” She combed her fingers languidly up and down his body.
“You won’t say goodbye?”
“I won’t. I’m sorry I’m sometimes a jackass.”
He laughed. They both did. Something loosened in his chest. Then he felt it. Their magics blending. His cold and hard, hers soft and warm, melding. It washed over him like soothing bath water, raising the hair on the back of his neck. When he touched the magic hovering on his skin, it surprised him that his fingers did not come away wet.
Kye squinted at him, shielding her eyes with her hand.
“We’re that bright?” he guessed.
“Blinding.”
***
“I’m coming with you,” Bran said. He stood in the drawing room, looking impossibly tall, black hair tousled like he’d just finished a round of wind sprints.
Jack met his eyes and knew instantly there was no changing his mind, so he didn’t bother. “How is Marnie holding up?”
